


How Did this Happen to Me (I've Made my Missnakes)

by blackgoliath



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgoliath/pseuds/blackgoliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben, Doom and Reed are in college and Ben really wants to punch Victor in the face but instead falls into something he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Did this Happen to Me (I've Made my Missnakes)

The first time was a fluke, he told himself. He was extremely drunk and so was Vic, and their usual sharp banter had turned into some rough shoving and then before Ben knew it he had pushed Vic up against the wall in the hall of his dorm because Vic had said something _extremely_ rude (he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember exactly what it was) about Reed and that was his _best friend damnit_ you didn’t talk shit about Reed on his watch so he’d gone with using his bigger size as an advantage, as he often did in such situations, and Vic was up against the wall with Ben’s hand gripping his chin and Victor had his hands on Ben’s shoulders, trying to push him away, and there was a fight imminent Ben could _feel_ it and yet.

And yet instead of punching Vic in the face for what he said (it was something along the lines of “Reed is a pathetic excuse for a scientist” which, on its own, was not that bad of an insult, but this was Ben’s best friend Vic was talking about) he pressed against that lean body and kissed Victor von Doom for all he was worth.

It should have ended there. Vic should have pushed him off and made some snide remark about him being a homo and then left. But it didn’t. Instead, that night they fucked on Reed’s bed.

Just a fluke, he told himself. A one-time occurrence. Maybe the beer he’d had that night was bad, and that was why he’d dragged Vic into his room and thrown him on the bed, why he’d taken Victor’s insults as encouragement, why he’d dragged off his clothes and kissed that sensuous mouth and dragged his teeth down Victor’s stomach. That must have been the reason that the two of them had ended up stark naked and sweating over each other on a night when Reed was away for some kind of science thing.

Ben didn’t really remember the circumstances behind it. In fact he tried not to think about it at all, though he found that during especially boring class periods (aka all of them) his mind would wander back to the muscles beneath Vic’s dark skin and the way those piercing eyes would cloud when he angled himself just the right way. A fluke, he thought, as he stared at the chalkboard and imagined Vic biting his lip to keep any sounds of pleasure from slipping out. As he tried to concentrate on the subject he was being taught so he didn’t get a boner in the middle of class.

This idea - that it was just “something that happened”, something he would only experience once in his lifetime because of all of the beer he’d drank - lasted up until the day he was looking for Reed in the science labs and instead stumbled across Vic. Insults were exchanged (the usual course of action for these two) and before Ben knew it their clothes were scattered across the floor and he had Vic bent over one of the counters. This was the first time he found that shoving beakers and test tubes aside to create room for the two of them would just piss Vic off more, and damn if that didn’t make it all the hotter. 

The stubborn little shit still wouldn’t make any sound if he could help it, but that just came with the territory. They weren’t friends, but Ben knew enough about Vic to understand that he hated giving up control to anybody. The little bitchfits he threw when forced to work with Reed were enough of an indicator of that.

The weeks passed and as the ‘incidents’ grew more frequent Ben wondered what the hell he was doing. _Why am I here_ , he would think as he sucked one of Vic’s nipples between his teeth, his hands roughly shoving those shapely thighs apart, every touch and kiss meant to elicit some sort of obvious reaction out of Victor when all he got was hissed insults. “You petulant oaf,” Vic would snap, though he arched into Ben’s touch. “Filthy peasant… no more than a snake under my heel.” And Ben would listen to the way Vic’s voice shifted toward the end and he always knew that the harsher the sentence the more Vic was enjoying it.

It was unhealthy, he told himself in class, as he pictured the way Victor’s butt sloped while his professor drew abstract math equations on the board. It was a good thing he was part of the football team, which afforded him some “leeway” when it came to teachers, because the second half of the term he spent more time than he ought to have imagining Victor’s eyes and lips and that scar along his hip that Ben had never asked about and the way his skin felt under Ben’s lips and his _smell_ and — it was ridiculous, and he reminded himself of this daily, but that didn’t stop the fantasies. It didn’t stop him from thinking about it, from sitting in front of some stupid action movie and aggressively eating Ben  & Jerry’s while Reed worked on homework. Didn’t stop him from saying “Nothing’s wrong” when Reed asked why he seemed so strange lately, why he was getting so hung up on a _guy_ , for Pete’s sake, a man of all things when he wasn’t gay, no, not gay at all, this was just… a college thing, girls experimented all the time in college (he’d heard stories) so it wasn’t as if he was some homo…. and sometimes when the weeks stretched between when he and Vic would end up naked on an empty lab floor he would take some strange girl to his bed and pretend, just for a little while, that there was nothing wrong and he wasn’t imagining her snapping at him in that accent as he thrust inside of her. That he wasn’t pretending her breasts were flat pectoral muscles, or that her eyes were hitting him like a freight train from under dark brows, or that her teeth were digging into her lip so she wouldn’t make a sound because _god forbid_ Ben knew how much she was enjoying it.

It was all a fluke, he told himself, four months later. Four months of dark hickeys he had to hide with his football jacket. Four months of convincing himself there was nothing wrong, that he wasn’t essentially stabbing his best friend in the back by sleeping with the man who could in a way be called his nemesis. Four months of angrily and silently jerking off long after Reed had gone to bed and he couldn’t get those lips or those eyes out of his mind and _how did that bastard weasel his way in so quickly_.

Just a fluke, Ben told himself after another two months had gone by and he just managed not to gasp out an “I love you” while he fucked Vic into the floor. Nothing but a fluke.


End file.
